


Love is Murder

by frustratedFreeboota



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Body Horror, Euthanasia, F/F, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Knives, Murder Rat - Freeform, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Sharing a Body, Slaughterhouse 9, So This is What Homeworld Thinks of Fusion, Suicide, wildbow, worm - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 13:36:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16327253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frustratedFreeboota/pseuds/frustratedFreeboota
Summary: Spared their grisly death from Worm canon, supervillain Ravager and superhero Mouse Protector live on... as Murder Rat. Two minds in shared control of one patchwork mess of a body. Can they learn to live with one another?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kithri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kithri/gifts).



"In the event that I am left in a persistent vegetative state, am left in such a state as to require extensive life support in order to live, or am combined with Mouse Protector into a single entity, I request the right to euthanasia."

"In the event that I'm bleeding out, am brainwashed by a supervillain into becoming evil, have my hair dyed an embarrassing colour, or am turned into a hideous medical experiment, give it a while. I'll probably be alright."

999 999 999

Narrator: We lay our scene in the midst of a PRT cell. A cramped and uncomfortable thing, with padded white walls, an electrical torture device in the ceiling that inflicts pain if you refuse to comply, and one of those obnoxious European toilets that requires you to squat over a hole. Fresh from their shower, a fumbling and awkward affair, our heroes pause to reflect on the changes wrought to them.

As soon as they reached the bathroom mirror, Ravager wished that they hadn't. She'd protested the entire thing. Bad enough they were stuck together. Bad enough that her imagination had been allowed to run rampant, without showing herself what they'd become.

The eyes looking back in the mirror weren't her own. Those were *her* eyes in Ravager's sockets. Their teeth and that awful smile she was making them make were *hers*. The way this body moved, the way they carried themselves with that same smug swagger and that shake in the hips, it all belonged to *her.*

*Please stop.* Ravager thought, and they carried on posing, opening her lips to make sure her teeth were alright. They ran a hand along their sides, stopping at the intersection where Mouse Protector's waist met Ravager's hips, leaving it there at a jaunty little angle. *Stop.* Ravager thought, closing their eyes.

*I thought it wasn't that bad.* Mouse Protector thought, and Ravager could feel the optimism bleeding into the parts of their brain that were supposed to be her own. The way their chest seemed to lift, and their cheeks twisted back into another smile.

*It's wrong.* Ravager thought. She made to ball their fists, stopping when the claws couldn't move the way she wanted them too. Mouse Protector opened their eyes, still facing the mirror, and Ravager had to see it again. Not her body. Their body. One body cherry picked from the two of them, ugly lines where one colour of skin met another. Murder Rat.

They leaned in closer to the mirror, and Murder Rat planted a kiss against the glass, an ugly warm feeling rushing through their chest.

*What did you do that for?* Ravager thought.

*You seemed like you needed it.* Mouse Protector thought, adjusting their stance a little. They turned about, and their eyes lingered on the image of their curves in the mirror, tracing the outline. Checking themselves out. Ravager felt sick, their stomach churning a little.

*I don't need you.* they thought. *I hate you.*

*I don't.* Mouse Protector thought, biting their lip. Murder Rat tensed, drawing their fingers back into the tense fists again. "This is sick." Murder Rat said, glancing back at the mirror, a little pang of disgust rolling through them again.

The glance became a stare, their arms folded across their chest for modesty's sake. They took a step forward, their nose pressing against their reflection. They could see the tears starting to form in their eyes. This was their life now. Ravager couldn't even cry alone. She'd be there, watching.

Without warning or lead, Murder Rat kissed their reflection. A light peck on the lips, leaving a little wet mark left on the glass. Their mix and match face paled.

*You seemed like you needed it.* Mouse Protector thought.

*Don't do that* Ravager thought.

*What?* Mouse Protector thought, Murder Rat's eyes drifting inexorably towards their butt.

*That! This isn't your body!* Ravager thought, tearing their eyes away from themselves. "It isn't even my body!" they all but yelled.

*Sorry.*

"Why are you doing this to me?" Murder Rat said, shooting daggers at the monster in the mirror.

*Because I love you?* Mouse Protector thought, and the way their shared heart fluttered sickened Ravager to her core. *I know you don't, but I do, alright?*

*I despise you.* Ravager thought back, even as Murder Rat’s hands drew about themselves with all the gentleness of a hug.

*I like you, okay? Us being together, that doesn't change anything.*

*I’d have rather died.* Ravager sighed.

*Are you sure?*

“Yes.” They said.

*Then I’m sorry.*

*For what?*

*For this…* Mouse Protector thought, as an errant hand slipped from their chest to their rear.

"Stop that." Murder Rat muttered. 

*But its so comfortable...* Came Mouse Protector's thoughts, with the little rush of emotions as they started to bubble over into Ravager's, discomfort being shoved out by warmth and pity.

*It's not... how would you like it if I was ogling you like this?* Ravager thought, without fully realising what she'd just thought. Murder Rat smirked a little. The giddy little feeling in their chest was infectious, and Ravager couldn't be sure how much of their smile was hers this time. Certainly, the blush was her fault.

*Oh, I'll never get to kiss you again...* Mouse Protector thought, a clawed finger wiping one of Ravager's tears from their cheek.

"I hate you." Murder Rat muttered, voice a quiver from mingled embarrassment and giddiness. The ambivalence had their heart pounding.

*I'll never get to touch your butt again...* Mouse Protector sobbed, even as she slid a hand down their back. Ravager fought her for every inch of back, but it was a losing battle, and a losing battle that ended with a squeeze. Their cheeks flushed with embarrassment, even as their face opened into a lascivious smile.

*What is wrong with you?*

There was a slight pinch, and Murder Rat squeaked. They turned to glare at the mirror again, and saw a hint of a smile appearing on their face.


	2. Chapter 2

"I mean, I've been through hard times before and there's probably a fix or something out there. Don't give up on me!"

999 999 999

Narrator: We lay our scene in fair Ravager's upscale apartment, a spacious two bedroom affair whose guest bed has never been used, whose windows overlook the water, and whose decor is mostly variations on the same glossy black that she thinks makes her look dangerous and sophisticated. Two women occupy the living room. One clad in the suit she wears for a job she hates, and one wearing blue feety pajamas.

Ravager scowled down at the grown woman sprawled across all three seats of her apartment's sofa. "I hate you, you know. I hate this," she said, gesturing about. 

The grown woman turned, her hair a tumbled mess that poured down around her eyes, a spoonful of chocolate milk and frosted flakes pausing halfway on its journey towards her mouth.

"I hate every moment of weakness. I hate that we went through what we did, and it did this to me. I look at you, and I see a woman that quit her job rather than face the slightest responsibility. I see a repulsive and immature failure that has dedicated her life to ruining mine. An emotionally stunted woman that has spent her every waking moment sabotaging my career and turning my name into a laughing stock."

The grown woman muttered something through her mouthful of overly sugary cereal, bleary eyed and squinting. The television carried on with its slapstick images and classical music.

"I want you out of my life," she lied, her eyes threatening to tear up. "Both of them." She wasn't talking to *her*, it was still just the grown woman. She shut them again, doing her best to picture the cape, the sword and shield. The things that turned her into *her.*

There was a clatter as the woman put her bowl down, and a brief rush of air as she appeared behind Ravager. Something warm placed itself on her shoulder. *Her* hand, touching her again.

"I want you out of my life," Ravager said, the emotion behind it gone, squeezing her eyes shut hard enough that colours played on the back of her eyelids. "Both of them." 

"Never," the woman said, mouth close to Ravager's, her breath sickly sweet.

Karen pictured the mask again. The whiskers, the tiny slats in her helmet exposing her eyes. It was enough to let her push past the ugly unnatural feelings in her chest. She held onto the image as hard as she could, spitting the words she'd practiced in front of the mirror for a week. 

"I want you to know that every time you win, I go home and I stare over the edge of my balcony. And every time, the only thing keeping me from going over that edge is knowing that I won't be pulling you over with me."

999 999 999

Narrator: We return now to Murder Rat's dismal cell in the PRT building. A single woman. 

Murder Rat woke up from their dream, their brow soaked with sweat. No ambivalence in their feelings, that had been painful for both of them. They could remember what had happened next. She'd ignored her again, after everything she'd just said she'd just pulled her into another hug, and pretended nothing had happened.

"Are you ok?" they whispered, and neither could be sure who had said it, so they said nothing.

They lifted a hand, muscles still stiff from their rough sleep, and the machete blades of their fingers played about in the air. They'd thrown their sheets off in the night, and their claws had torn the paper thin sheets of their cell's bed, scraps and threads stuck in little nicks in the blades. The weight of the metal made it hard to move them beyond a simple flex, and dragged their hand back down to the bed in short order. Their hand landed with a clank. That's how hard the bed was. Hard enough to clank.

*Makes things a little harder.* Mouse Protector thought, tapping a finger against the bed.

"She turned us into a weapon." Ravager said, through Murder Rat's lips. 

*No, things.* Mouse Protector thought, and this time a little bit of her intent bled across, pulling their mouth into another of her wretched smiles. She pulled two of their fingers together, blades clicking against each other.

Their heart fluttered again, caught in the overlap between *her* giggly fun and Ravager's dawning horror.

*No.* Ravager thought. She hadn't even dared to look or think about what had been done to that part of herself, and the idea of sharing with the woman in her head was grotesque. Bad enough this woman had come into her life and stayed there, despite her best efforts to dislodge her. Bad enough this had been done to them without giving *her* that final inch of herself.

*Suit yourself,* Mouse Protector thought. *Thought it might help you feel better.*

*No.* Ravager thought back. 

*Your loss.*

Mouse Protector. She'd invaded everything. Stolen kisses in the midst of fights, invaded her house. *She* was no doubt already thinking of new ways to make her feel uncomfortable.

*No.* Ravager thought, Murder Rat shuddering as she desperately tried to keep the treacherous idea out of her head. Their head. Either of their heads, if possible. They were trapped inside themselves until they were allowed to die, and until then Ravager would rather sit and feel sorry for herself than give in to *her* and... how did she even intend to do it?

Mouse Protector made to click their fingers again, and Ravager stopped her. Their shared thoughts fell quiet, and the two stewed in silence, their head against the bed. 

Before they could even close their eyes, a dull and painful groan erupted from their shared bowels. They turned their head, eyes wide with a shared dread as they stared towards the combination shower and washlet.


	3. Chapter 3

"And don't let me give up either! I've been a hero for a while now and I've seen people way more mature than me turn into a complete grumpypuss."

999 999 999

Narrator: We lay our scene in the midst of Murder Rat's cell, our view graciously held on their bed so as to afford them a modicum of privacy as they go about their morning ablutions.

The one of them squatted, first facing the shower wall and then, when that failed to do anything, with their back to it. The blades set into their toes clicked nervously against the little patch of tiled floor. Bad enough that they'd been turned into an animal without having to relieve themselves in the dark like one. Bad enough that they were squatting there for minutes with the same clogged up feeling.

They chuckled for one reason or another, a little snicker that Ravager hated herself for making.

"What?" they snapped.

"I can't go when someone's watching." They said. Mouse Protector twisted their lips with another little smile, another chuckle forcing its way up Ravager's throat. 

"Stop that." Ravager muttered, realising too late that she'd made them speak.

*What?* Mouse Protector thought, sparing Murder Rat the burden of carrying on a conversation with themself.

*The jokes.* Ravager thought back. "They don't make me feel any better.*

*I wasn't joking.* Mouse Protector thought.

They chuckled again, and Ravager could almost picture herself chuckling along at the stupidity of it. At least things couldn't be any more embarassing than this.

The screen of their cell beeped, the early morning gloom of the cell giving way to a blinding and brilliant white. A six second warning to finish and cover up. The two didn't even try, frozen with a sudden and shared flash of fear. Before the fat face of their captor could fill their cell's television screen they were already waving a hand, desperately trying to shoo her off.

"Come back later!" They spat, with as much of Ravager's tone and venom as they could agree to use. Not that it was Ravager's voice. It sounded more like *her* doing an impression.

"Kindly finish your business," the voice of the woman on the screen began, trying her best to avert her eyes, one hand held in font of the screen. 

"Don't rush us!" They said, Mouse Protector's words. Their face burned in a mixture of embarrassment and disgust, legs shaking with the effort to hold their squat.

The woman continued, trying to hide her disgust behind a measured tone. "And then dress in the provided clothes-" 

Murder Rat drew their claws against the lone wall of the shower, the tips sharp enough to draw a chalkboard like squeak from the metal. Mouse Protector moved them, tilting their head back, the word "Sure!" bubbling up from their lips. 

Without any input from Ravager they stood up, marching across the room, leaving a trail of wet footsteps from the floor of the washlet/shower to their bed. They pulled the prison sweatshirt out from underneath their pillow, raised it above their head, and made to thread a hand through the sleeve. The entire length of the ugly garment was sliced to ribbons by their machete tipped fingers, with a noise like tearing off duct tape.

"Ooh," They said, smiling, shreds of fabric clinging to their hand. "Maybe if you send us a vest we can dress up as Winnie the Pooh!" The screen had already flickered off, leaving only Murder Rat's reflection to glare back at them, their mix and match face twisted into a sarcastic grin. *Her* face, scrunched up and angry for the first time Ravager had ever seen. Murder Rat started to laugh. It wasn't one of *her* laughs. It was an unhappy and uneasy chuckle, closer to a sob than *her* guffahs.

The two trod about, pacing, and Ravager was content to let *her* burn off their energy before they resumed their shameful squatting. 

999 999 999

Narrator: We move now to the two, still entrapped within their cell, having moved on from the exhausting and invasive process of relieving themselves to the equally unenviable task of cleaning themselves in the presence of another human being.

They stooped beneath the shower head, back bent over to let their hair get some water in it, not that they could rinse the shampoo in with the way their hands were now. Water came in a trickle rather than a stream.

It didn't matter that *she* wasn't saying anything, Ravager could tell she was in there. Every little motion of their arm that came short because they disagreed on where to move it, every clumsy and mismatched movement as they misinterpreted the other. She could imagine *her* hands on her back. *Her* hands were the ones touching her, and it felt wretched. She could imagine *her* imagining the same thing, and every time their frantic scrubbing slowed, Ravager could imagine *her* enjoying the chance to grope her. *She* was trying to hide it, but Ravager could feel a tingling and twitching whenever they caught a glimpse of themselves.

Their hands slowed bit by bit, until the impossible task of holding soap was abandoned, and the little white bar was lost down the drain. The shower gave up as soon as they dared to raise themselves above its head. Their toes started to click against the tiles again, and they shivered against the cold air.

"I love you." Mouse Protector whispered through their lips.

It wasn't enough that Ravager had to hear her say it, or be forced to say it along with her. She had to feel the weight behind those words with her heart and her skin, the way Mouse Protector had them bite their lip while *she* waited for her to say something back.

Ravager’s answer came in the form of silence, and the tightness in their chest, and the way they struggled to take their next breath, and the breath after that.


	4. Chapter 4

"Don't let me go. Even if it hurts. Even if I ask, or if I beg. If I'm still in there, if there's a piece of me that's still going, don't give up on me."

999 999 999

Narrator: We lay our scene still trapped in Murder Rat’s cell, the two ostensibly held in solitary confinement, though their fate is anything but solitary. They sit on their bed, watching Mouse Protector’s choice of show.

Television. Their cell had a television, with the same inane channels that *she* always used to watch, with their wordless violence and slapstick noises. And she had to feel that same joy *she* felt, strong enough to force itself over the soured mood that Ravager had from having to watch. There wasn't anything else to do, she thought. And it shut *her* up. Anything less than constant motion made *her* restless, made her tap their fingers or their toes.

It was another idle day in a line of idle days while other people thought and , but at least they weren't nude any more. They'd cut and sliced it on its way on but their little hospital smock let them hide the parts of themselves that *she* kept sneaking glances at when *she* thought she wasn't looking. Even if there was still a breeze on the parts of them that Ravager refused to think about.

Something went crash on the screen. *She* made them laugh, a strangled little chuckle. *She* rocked them on the edge of their bed, throwing their head back. A cat screamed in a funny way, and they laughed again.

This must have been what it was like to be her, Ravager thought. This perpetual giddiness. How on Earth could she stand to be so happy all the time, even when they were twisted like this?

"How." Murder Rat said, the word a snarl rather than a question.

*How what?* Mouse Protector thought, rapping their fingers against the bed. Tapping constantly, as if she couldn’t sit still for more than five minutes.

*How do you still...* Ravager began, trying and failing to voice the question at hand.

Mouse Protector made the two of them grin, forcing two of their fingers together. Their blades clicked together, an ugly sound for the gesture that *she* had turned into some grotesque and obscene thing.

*No.* Ravager thought, but by now the gruesome mental image was planted. She felt sick, and she felt giddy where *she* was enjoying her being flustered, or however she was misunderstanding her discomfort. However she rationalised how she made Ravager feel.

*I dunno.* Mouse Protector thought, Murder Rat shrugging. *She* made them blink, *she* made them glance at their fingertips, and the lengths of steel jutting out of them. *Its feeling awfully tempting.*

*No.* Ravager thought, as firmly and as violently as she could. Not that it mattered what she said or thought if their body was still reacting the way it was. She hated *her*, she hated the way their powers made them feel about each other, and the hated everything *she* did, every time *she* invaded her space. Their stomach tied itself into new and imaginative knots, trying to find a middle ground between Ravager’s revulsion and *her* perpetual amusement.

*I was just teasing.* Mouse Protector said.

“Teasing?” Murder Rat spat.

*Teasing.* Mouse Protector thought. *I needed to take your mind off things. I'm just trying to keep us alive.* 

"You make me want to die!"

*You hating me is all that keeps you alive.* Mouse Protector thought. Their shared body shivered. *I know you hate me. I've always known, and now that we’re like this I know every time you say that to me that you honestly mean it.* Mouse Protector thought.

“I love you.” Murder Rat said, and Ravager was forced to feel the words on her lips. An uneasy warmth and affection filled their chest.

“I love you, and you hate me. How do you think that feels?" Murder Rat said.

Ravager didn't need self pity. She didn't need *her* pity. She didn’t need to feel *her* pity for *her*self, or *her* pity for her. She needed *her* to leave her alone, because being made to feel like this was vile and disgusting and intrusive.

Their heart sank, something else forcing itself atop Ravager's anger. “At least when I’m around there's someone you hate more than yourself. You don’t have anyone else that loves you and you don’t have anyone else to hate. You're this lonely monster and I still love you more than anything else in the world.”

“Shut up.” Murder Rat snarled. Ravager dug their claws into the thick mattress of their bed, desperate for some sensation to distract her from the sick churnings of their chest and the constant, inescapable presence of *her* that permeated her life.

Murder Rat opened the long drawn out lips of their muzzle. "If I just pretend that we're normal, if I just accept that I can't do anything about what happened, then I can try and make the most of this because as much as this feels like the worst thing that could ever have happened to me I don't want to die. No matter how horrible it feels, or how scary this is, I don't want to die."

Tears ran down their shared cheeks, and Ravager was made to listen. "And I know that's selfish of me because it’s easier for you to give up but I can't do that. I know you hate me, and I know you think we're this fucking monster, but I can't do that. I can't give up. Not on you, and not on me."

The cat on the television screamed again, and Murder Rat giggled their way through their tears. “We’re arguing over cartoons again.” They said, and Ravager listened. “This is the scariest conversation in my life and we didn’t turn the TV off.”

They didn't move to wipe the tears from their cheeks. They watched a cat suffer.


	5. Chapter 5

Narrator: Heroine Mouse Protector and villainess Ravager, and their shared accomodation Murder Rat, are all still inside their cell. The one of them sit atop an uncomfortable bed, their uncomfortable pillow used as a cushion for them to lie against.

*She* had laughed when she requested the book. *She* had made them laugh when Ravager had tried to explain herself, and her connection with the book. *She* had stopped laughing, and kept to the same bubbly perpetual amusement.

Ravager had read this story before. She'd grown up reading the stories that this story had been based on, and for a brief time in college she had known this book's author, shameless enough that they hadn't even changed the book's name when she'd busied herself using "replace all" on what few names and places she had changed.

She'd told *her* that it was the saddest story she'd ever read, and that the author had transformed the characters into something new and beautiful. And then *she* had laughed again, and when *she* finished making them laugh, *she* asked Ravager what she got out of something like this.

"Why would you want to read something that makes you miserable?" Murder Rat said.

*Because it helps me feel better.* Ravager thought. *Because it helps me understand my life better, and other people's lives better.*

Ravager slid the bladed edge of one finger between one page and the next. She lifted it, careful to work around the cheap paper's natural tendency to curl. It took longer to turn a page than to read it now. Her blade moved with a grace that it was never built for, desperately keeping their heavy finger still, making sure not to tip it too fast. One wrong move, and it would fold back on itself.

They shuddered with *her* little rush of anticipation. *She* wanted her to fail. *She* was finding this slow and awkward little movement more fun than the book. *She* had them bite their lip every time Ross described Rosalyn. *She* kept asking what was happening, or who a character was.

Every page was ruined by *her* boredom and disinterest, and the way *she* made them tap their fingers against the bed.

'Ross pressed his hand against the mirror, watching as Rosalyn pressed her hand against her side. Ross knew that a part of himself was missing, that there was a reason why he had spent so long angry with his family, and he knew that that was a part of his life that Rosalyn had had. There shouldn't have been a reason. They'd both been groomed for their role in their grandmother's inheritence. They'd both had their childhoods ruined by the bickering with their cousins and their uncles, and the neverending war of attrition between them. He was a boy, and she was a girl. That was the only difference between him and Rosalyn. Rosalyn, with her slender neck and her flowing hair. Rosalyn, with her-'

Their heart had sped up again. Ravager couldn't focus on the words, not with *her* practically making them drool with her infantile daydreams.

*Stop it* she thought.

*Stop what?* Mouse Protector thought.

*Stop ruining this. This is supposed to be moving.*

*It is.* Mouse Protector thought, and Murder Rat giggled. Another tingle spread through their chest, another feeling that wasn't hers. Ravager ignored it, keeping their eyes on the page, forcing their fingers still.

'Ross realised something, staring into her eyes, seeing the way their faces didn't quite line up. Ross realised which side of the mirror she wanted to be on.'

*She* giggled again. Ravager had read this scene a dozen times when she had been in college, and she'd cried every time. And now all she felt was *her* amusement. Their eyes stayed dry.

"Stop it." Murder Rat hissed.

*But its so corny.* Mouse Protector thought, fighting to pull their lips from a sneer into a smile.

*It's supposed to be meaningful.* Ravager thought back.

*That doesn't mean it isn't corny.* Mouse Protector thought. Another giggle forced itself through Murder Rat's lips.

*And that doesn't mean the author didn't get people saying how much they liked it, and what it helped them realise about themselves.* Ravager thought.

Mouse Protector made them shrug, jerking their shoulders and neck. Ravager turned their eyes back to their page, almost missing their spot, and narrowly avoiding reading ahead.

'Rosalyn's hand slid down her chest, tracing a line across her smooth and silky skin...'

The scene had gone through a few changes with the editors, Ravager thought. She could remember telling the author to tone things down a bit, to let the moment be quiet and speak for itself. Evidently she'd thought the scene lacked something. Their heart beat, a steady heat spreading through their cheeks.

'Like linked to like, Ross could feel the hand tracing its way back up her chest...'

There was a tingle in a place that Ravager didn't want to think about. She knew *she* could feel it too, and she could imagine *her* pressing herself up against her, sharing in the warmth when all Ravager wanted was a moment's peace. They made to comfort themselves, arms folded across their chest. It didn't help. It was like *she* was grabbing her. 

*No.* Ravager thought, and they moved their hands to their side.

They couldn't read any more. Not like this, not with that sort of reaction. Not with any kind of reaction. They waited it out. Ravager's arousal faded fast, buoyed along by her disgust, but *her* thoughts simmered and bubbled for minutes, sustaining themselves for long, painful minutes. Their body took *her* side, and the feeling kept itself going for far too long.

There couldn't be any release. Not with *her* watching, not with *her* inside them. There couldn't be reading, or thinking, nothing without *her* judging her for it, or laughing about it.

Ravager wanted to cry, but the eyes weren’t hers. They were theirs, and *she* was still feeling warm. She wanted an end.


	6. An End

Narrator: The lights have been turned off for some time now. They dare not sleep for fear of dreaming. They dare not talk for fear of arguing. They sleep without sheets for fear of tangling their hands in the cloth.

*I'm warm.* Ravager lied.

*Shower?* Mouse Protector thought, all too quickly.

*Yes.* Ravager replied, and they stood from their bed, their toes clicking against the tiles of their cell. *She* walked them towards the shower and washlet, and she turned them towards the mirror instead.

*Mirror.* Ravager thought, when their feet stopped moving. The two walked their flatfooted stooped step towards the mirror. Too dark for a real reflection. Just the trace of of their silhouette. Like this, she thought she might look like herself. From a distance, at night, maybe, someone she knew might have mistook them for herself.

"Get it off" Ravager muttered through their lips, and Mouse Protector obliged, eager as always to be the one to undress them.

They grabbed the edges and tugged up, trying to remove it like a tee shirt, getting their hands stuck and the smock stuck, and blinding themselves with a faceful of white fabric that pressed up against their snout.

A mutual embarrassment blossomed at how stupid they'd look like this, at the idea of someone watching them struggled just to undress. They flexed their fingers, starting to cut their smock away in strips and pieces, cutting away the piece of cloth over their eyes that kept them from seeing the lines of stitches that rounded their chest, and the staples where the little girl that put them together had needed something stronger than needle and thread to fix her chest to *her* body.

*She* made their heart flutter at the sight, and made their breath still. She studied her reflection, studied what had been done to her hands.

"Don't stop me." Ravager said, and the her words came out in her voice. Her voice, not *her* voice, not Mouse Protector's, not the woman she hated with all her heart, not the woman that loved her with all her heart.

*She* was afraid. *She* made them tremble, and drew the colour from their stretched out cheeks. *She* knew how this was going to end.

Ravager stood still, straightened their back, placed their legs together, ignoring the way the blades on her toes clicked against the tiles. She lifted one hand, as if in an oath, and mover the other hand to grab their wrist. Their hand stopped. Their fingers locked up, refusing to move another inch. *She* held on, and they stood like that for a while, breathing as deeply as they could, not thinking a word to each other. They blinked, and when they opened their eyes the knifes were still there. Their heart was still pounding in shared fear.

*Please.* Ravager said, and their fingers gave, almost too quick. They stopped, calming themselves, steadying their breath, waiting for a still enough moment. They grabbed their hand like they would a water bottle, and the inside edge of the blades on the edge of their fingers dug in. One hand first, and then the other, waiting until their arm was steady enough that they could grab.

Their breathing slowed, heart filled with enough panic that they feared they might suffocate.

Their heart didn't, and they listened to their breaths as their arms dripped onto the tiles.

They took a few slow steps from the mirror to the showerhead, and sat down together beneath it and waited. The water wouldn't come on. It was only supposed to come on if you sat down the right way. Hands and knees on the floor, head stooped in prayer.

They waited, and fought to keep their eyes open. Murder Rat tapped their fingers against the tiles, listening to the little clicking noise as it started to sound a little more distant, a little fainter.

*I'm sorry.* Mouse Protector thought.

They closed their eyes, and hoped that they would part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was originally intended to be a little lighter. I don't think there was another way to end it.


End file.
